Friday, March 26, 8:50 p.m. Passion Ministry

“Auditor? At this time?”

Sheila nodded. “For Jimmy’s account.” She shoved the phone at Phil. “Says you’re expecting him.”

“Oh no, not now!” Phil poked the screen of his BlackBerry. He stared in astonishment at the blinking cursor: Noble, audit JCJ. Somehow, he had screwed up. The audit was scheduled a month earlier than anticipated! “Yes, hello?”

A voice rattled in his ear. “Of course, we’re expecting you next week, Mr. Noble. Yes, yes, everything’s fine.” He hesitated. “Oh…you’d like to come?” Phil rolled his eyes for Sheila’s benefit. Dropped into a chair. “Great, tickets’ll be at the gate. Uh-huh, see you then.”

Sweat pooled in his palms.

Sheila had closed the door and was stroking his arm in seconds. “You okay, hon?”

“Just a headache. I’ll be fine.”

“Poor thing.” She gently stroked his temples. “Lot on your mind.”

You don’t know the half of it.

Sheila offered him some pills. The phone rang. She hung it up. “Sure you’re all right?” Her face was so close he could taste her sweet breath.

Though both long-time Ministry employees, they had been lovers only six months—still at the can’t-get-enough-of-you stage, albeit he feared Sheila was fast approaching the I-want-a-commitment stage. He pushed her away. “Door.”

Sheila bristled, a familiar gesture when faced with the realities of being ‘the other woman’. She shut down their intimate moment by opening the door. The sound of laughter wafted in.

“What was that all about?”

Phil shook his head.

“As legal counsel, I’ve a right to know about any problems, potential or otherwise.”

“Sure you do, and I’ll be the first to tell you if I have any, okay?”

“You’re scratching your head again. Something’s up. Why would an audit of Jimmy’s account startle you? I know you’re not its trustee, but surely you’re aware of its status?”

“It doesn’t startle me. Just mixed up the dates. Everything’s fine with the kid’s slush fund, okay?” At least, everything would be copasetic, once he returned the money he had ‘borrowed’ following the last audit.

“Look, Sheila, d’you mind? I’ve got a lot of work—”

She stalked back to the doorway. “It’s always work with you, isn’t it?”

“Don’t!” he commanded as she slammed the door. “Slam the door. Oh, brother,” he whispered, adding up the damage: five million dollars missing plus an angry mistress.